


Silent Words

by Jeni182



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Ficlet Collection, Fluff and Angst, Handcuffs, Healing, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Light Bondage, Love, M/M, Sex, Short & Sweet, Shorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-08-29 22:52:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16752982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeni182/pseuds/Jeni182
Summary: A collection of short All For the Game ficlets. Most are fluffy angst, some will probably get a bit explicit. Can also been seen at my tumblr (jtmann182). Enjoy!





	1. In Motion

Andrew was in constant motion. Toe tapping, knee shaking, finger twitching. Currently he was pacing.

Neil was sitting on the bottom bunk he called his own. Legs crossed with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a cape to ward off the early morning chill. He watched as Andrew restlessly paced back and forth in front of him.

He was complaining about Kevin, Neil supposed.

Neil’s mind couldn’t focus on the words as he watched Andrew’s hands. They floated in front of him like pale birds, gracefully swooping and arching to emphasize his points.

About Kevin, probably?

Every once in a while in his pacing, Andrew would stand in exactly the right spot so that the sun filtering through the slats in the blinds would reflect his eyes and turn the hazel into a molten gold that made Neil wonder if he could find that color anywhere else, really. Because it didn’t seem natural for eyes to be so warm.

Andrew suddenly stopped pacing, hands dropping to his sides and looked down at Neil.

“Earth to Josten. Are you listening to the bullshit I have to deal with?”

Neil blinked once and swallowed, tearing his gaze away from Andrews lips (he was contemplating searching for Andrew’s stash of lip moisturizer that must be hidden somewhere because _honestly_ ).

“Just tell Kevin to fuck off,” Neil replied, saying a silent prayer he was right about the topic of Andrew’s ire.

Andrew narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Neil before nodding and walking out of the room. Neil watched Andrew take his phone out of his pocket as he strode in to the common area and heard a muffled “Fuck off” before the snap of a phone closing.

Neil allowed himself a small internal pat on the back for knowing Andrew so well before dragging his blanket with him to grab a cup of coffee and debating whether it was worth the threat of death to ask about the lip moisturizer.


	2. Colors

Andrew hates color.

It’s part of the reason why he’s always in black. It’s just easier. The color doesn’t make his eyes hurt. He doesn’t have to think about shit matching.

It deters people, a lot of times.

When he was medicated, everything was so bright. There was color everywhere and it was fine because the medication told him it was fine so he smiled and laughed and dealt with the Foxes obnoxious shade of orange.

But now that he’s not medicated, the colors are all dull. And that feels right. Everything is a shade of gray and white and sometimes a very dark blue that’s almost black. Even the orange is dulled to a reasonable burnt color that doesn’t make his eyes hurt anymore.

So Andrew is more than a little disturbed when he comes back from the living hell that was getting sober to find that Neil is still so _bright_. His auburn hair makes Andrew think of fall and his icy blue eyes make him think of winter and honestly _fuck him_ for causing Andrew even think this shit.

He was supposed to be a side effect of the medication. He was supposed to shine so bright because Andrew’s synapses were being chemically fired. This wasn’t supposed to last. Andrew will not, will not, _will not_ do this to himself. Not again.

But the thing is, when he’s with Neil and they’re on the roof top and Neil’s hands are woven in Andrew’s hair, the color bleeds from Neil in to the rest of the world. Suddenly the sunset is a living thing and the sky is new and the lights of campus are winking white stars and the hideous orange of the foxhole court is the color of safety.

And, Andrew thinks, the icy blue winter of Neil’s eyes is the color of home. But he wouldn’t look at that too closely. Not yet.


	3. Hurry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by Nora's asks on tumblr, about the first time Andrew allows Neil push him down.

Andrew has thought about this moment a lot. For a long time. He hasn’t really mentioned it to Neil because he didn’t think he could stand seeing the softness in his stupid eyes and the way it changes his entire stupid fucking face. 

So when Andrew places Neil’s hand on his chest and puts enough pressure on it to show Neil what he wants, Neil hesitates. 

“Andrew…”

“Yes.”

After another moment of hesitation, Neil complies. He gently pushes Andrew’s chest until Andrew is flat on his back on the bed, keeping their mouths connected the entire way down. Once Andrew is fully horizontal, Neil pulls back and searches his face for any hint or warning. Andrew can’t help himself. He huffs and rolls his eyes before complaining, “Stop thinking so goddam loud and come here.”

Again, Neil complies.

He rises up to throw his leg over Andrew’s lap until he’s straddling him and rests his full weight on Andrew’s hips. 

Andrew has thought about this moment a lot. For a long time. What it would be like. How he might react. How Neil might react. But he didn’t think he’d be like this. His heart is pounding loud enough that he’s sure Neil can hear it and he’s taking deep breaths. He’s trying to shut the door on the memory of another heavy body on top of his before it can take root and ruin this moment. So all he can think as Neil is gazing down at him with something like awe in his eyes is _hurryhurryhurry_. Before he loses his nerve. 

“Still yes?” Neil breathes.

“Yes.”

Neil starts to move. Slowly at first. Rubbing himself against Andrew through their sweats. Just enough friction for Andrew to grit his teeth and Neil to let slip one of his little moans that makes Andrew hate him and want him a bit more every time he hears it. Andrew’s eyes are closed and his whole body is tense and he’s gripping Neil’s thighs like they’re the anchor keeping him in place. He gestures to Neil to go faster, _hurryhurryhurry_ before he comes loose and floats away to the choppy waters of his nightmares. 

Neil snatches the hand Andrew was using to gesture, quick as a snake. Andrew opens his eyes and watches as Neil leans forward a bit and puts the hand he’s holding to his scarred cheek. He presses Andrew’s fingers in hard so Andrew can feel each and every place where Lola used that knife. They lock eyes and Neil’s say _I’m here. It’s me._ and Andrew’s say _I know. I trust you._ Neil grinds his hips down a little harder. A little faster. 

Andrew’s sharp intake of breath is the only give away to what he’s feeling. He tries to keep it in because letting it out makes him feel too vulnerable in an already vulnerable situation. He relaxes under Neil and strokes his cheek one more time before letting his hand fall to trace the scars on his torso. Familiar and warm and home. 

Neil takes them both out of their sweats, already slick with precum. He takes them in his hands together and moves his hips again, rutting faster now, still keeping an eye on Andrew. On any hint that he needs to stop. Harder and faster Neil moves, finally throwing his head back and letting out a whine that makes the base of Andrew’s spine tingle, a monster coiling tightly there and ready to spring. Andrew’s heart catches at the sound of Neil and before he can get control of himself he’s coming all over his stomach and chest. Neil following him over the edge almost immediately. 

As soon as Andrew drops his hands, still breathing hard and staring dazedly at the bunk above him, Neil’s weight is gone. He walks across the room to the desk to grab a box of tissues. He takes one for himself and throws the box on the bed next to Andrew. 

Andrews starts cleaning his abdomen off and tucking himself back in his sweats when Neil sits down on the edge of the bed. Looking at him warily. 

“I’m fine. It was fine. We’re fine.” Andrew says. And suddenly he wants a cigarette so bad he can taste ash in his mouth. 

“I know. Thanks, by the way.”

“For what?”

“For trusting me. For trusting yourself enough to let it happen. I…” Neil looks down at his hands, thinking. He looks back up a second later, finally getting his words in order and locking eyes with Andrew.

“I know that this was a big step and I guess I’m just really grateful. So…thanks. Again.”

Andrew looks at him for a long moment and runs through so many possible responses to this. His number one contender is _Jesus Christ don’t you ever stop talking?_ but also _You are the reason._ and _Why are you thanking me for_ _getting off?_ and _Please stay._

He forgoes all of them, grabbing Neil by the back of the neck and bringing their foreheads together for a moment before kissing him slow and hard enough to try and send a physical message of all the things he knows he’ll never be able to say out loud. _You are everything. You make me feel sane. You make me feel awake. I always want to be alive with you. I love you._

What comes out is, “One hundred and ten percent.”


	4. Pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning for some discriminatory language and violence.

It had been a really long time since Neil had seen Andrew in pieces. 

Neil was laying on the couch of Andrew's apartment in Denver waiting for him to get home from practice. Palmetto was on break and Neil couldn't get out of South Carolina fast enough. To Andrew fast enough. 

Long distance relationships were shit. 

So when Andrew walked through the door quietly and calmly and gently set his bag on the ground next to the door, Neil didn't immediately recognize a problem. It wasn't until he noticed Andrew staring for an unnecessary amount of time down at his bag, his back turned to Neil that Neil saw it. The tense set of his shoulders, the way his hands were slowly trying to uncurl from fists. 

Neil stood up and softly said, "Hey."

Andrew turned then. It was an effort in self-control for Neil to keep his face carefully neutral. Andrew had a blooming black eye and his hands were bloody. It settled in the skin between finger and nail and under the nails themselves. Smeared over knuckles and fingers.

"I hope the other guy looks worse." Neil offered. 

Andrew didn't say anything. His eyes were empty in a way Neil hadn't seen in years and his mouth was slack with indifference. Neil knew better than to try to pry right away. Instead he beckoned Andrew to follow him. 

Andrew did, slowly trailing Neil in to the bathroom. Neil gestured for him to sit on the counter of the sink while he found a clean washcloth. When he had what he needed, he stood next to Andrew and turned on the warm water. 

"You wanna talk about it?"

"No."

"Okay."

Neil slowly reached out for one of Andrews hands, looking up questioningly. Andrew put his hand in Neil's, limp and cold. Neil wet a washcloth and slowly started to clean Andrew's hand, checking closely for cuts and scrapes. Andrew watched him in silence, breathing steady breaths and closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the mirror before speaking. 

"They were saying things. About you. And us."

"Who?"

"Daniels and Gold." Two of Andrew's teammates, new this season. 

"What were they saying?" Neil continued cleaning Andrew's hands. He could see the cuts on his knuckles now. The scrapes and bruises that were slowly forming. 

"It doesn't matter."

"Your hands beg to differ."

Andrew huffed but didn't resist as Neil lowered the hand he was holding and reached out for the other one. Andrew let him take it. 

"The shit people with a death wish say. They assume the rumors of us being a thing can't possibly be true so they also assume they can say what they want. That you're probably really a fag. That you'd probably let me stick my dick in you, if I really wanted. That you'd let me beat the shit out of you while I did it, since I'm such a violent psychopath."

It was the last one that had Andrew clenching his hands into fists again. Neil knew why. The violent psychopath comment wouldn't have bothered Andrew. He truly didn't give a shit what people thought of him. But even the suggestion that Andrew would do to Neil what was done to him was enough to make Neil's stomach roil. He didn't know how Andrew hadn't killed them. Neil stopped what he was doing and looked up.

"Did you kill them?"

"Do you think they would've let me just waltz home if I had?"

Neil shrugged his shoulders. "I like to think you'd make a quick getaway. Maybe come back for me before fleeing the country. I don't know if you've heard but I'm great at running."

He ran his fingers softly over Andrew's clenched fist until he let go and unfurled, relaxing his fingers. 

"I mean. I _would_ let you put your dick in me. So. At least there's that?"

Andrew didn't respond. No flicker in his eyes. No curl to his lips. Neil sighs. He knew better than to expect a laugh but he couldn't help trying.

"You know I don't care what they say. They're ignorant assholes. And shitty players. Honestly, I've been meaning to tell you how sorry I am for the unfortunate turn your team has taken."

Andrew looks up at Neil. "I care."

The fact that he was admitting as much made Neil's heart clench. "Did you complain to the coach? Or management?", Neil asked.

"No. I beat the shit out of them and left practice."

"Good."

Andrew doesn't reply, continuing to watch Neil's ministrations. Neil takes a moment to sneak a peek at Andrew's face. At his pieces that Neil so carefully learned the pattern to. His torn soul and his broken heart and his healing spirit. Healing maybe because of what they had built between them. Trust and safety and honesty. They didn't all come easy and they didn't even all come all of the time. But they were there. They belonged to each other but maybe more importantly, they belonged to themselves again. There was a time when they couldn't say that.

The tenseness in Andrew's shoulders had eased and warmth was slowly thawing the ice in his eyes. Neil finished cleaning Andrew's hand and shut off the water, setting the washcloth aside. He moves a little closer to Andrew.

"Yes or no?"

Andrews looks up at him. He does Neil the favor of actually considering it. Of taking a mental check to see where he was at in his head and in his body.

"Yes."

Neil stands between Andrew's legs and takes Andrew's hands in his. He kisses the knuckles of each one before leaning in to kiss Andrew on his jaw. The skin behind his ear. The place between his neck and shoulder. The hollow of his throat. Finally, his mouth. It's chaste and lingering and Neil pulls away just far enough to say "This is what matters. This is what will always matter."

Andrews considers a moment and nods. 

Neil reaches over to grab the hand towel off the rail on the wall and wraps Andrews wet hands in the warm folds, squeezing gently to dry them. 

"Let's get you some ice."


	5. Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicky holds on to hope.

The thing about Nicky Hemmick is that his happiness often depends on the happiness of the people he cares about. 

He knows this about himself. He understands it's probably not a healthy mentality to have. He also really doesn't care. 

When he left Germany to come home to South Carolina to take care of the twins, he was a man on a mission. He wanted to _save_ them. He wanted to show them what family and love and safety felt like. More than anything, he wanted to spare them from his parents. Nicky would always love his parents, he assumes. It just seems like something a good child would do. But he grew up with them and he knew the kind of stifling environment the twins would be subjected to. 

He was sure the entire time he packed. He was sure the entire drive to the airport. He was sure when he checked his bags. He was not so sure when he turned to tell Erik goodbye. He'd been so pumped up on adrenaline and purpose that he had blocked himself from thinking about the truly hard part. Taking care of two highschoolers? Cake. Chocolate fucking _cake_ compared to standing in the airport and clinging to the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. 

He held on to Erik a beat too long to not be desperate. He buried his face in his neck and breathed in his body wash and fisted a hand in his shirt. This was not forever, Erik reminded him. 

Now that he's at Palmetto with the twins and now that he's been in the US longer than he thought he would, he's not sure when or if he'll ever be able to leave. He made a promise to himself when he took Andrew and Aaron in. That he would show them family. He would help them be happy. He's sure he's failed at both. So he hangs on and laughs extra loud and smiles extra bright and hopes extra hard that there's still time. 

His main concern, obviously, was Andrew. He still wanted to show Aaron a real family, but Aaron also had Kaitlyn. Aaron was going to be a doctor. Aaron had the best grades of anyone on the Exy team and Nicky was pretty sure it was bitterness and a special sort of revenge that was driving him. But it was still _something_.

Andrew had Neil. Right now. Nicky was never sure what to think of them. They were always seen together but never seen _together_. He was so sure it was a case of good old fashioned hate sex that would fizzle when Andrew got bored, but here they were. Going on two years and they're still...whatever they are. 

Nicky is still worried. Every time Andrew has a bad day he feels it weighing on him. It sits on his shoulders and crawls up his throat and threatens to strangle him with guilt.

He can tell from the vacant eyes and the way he goes non-verbal when Andrew is remembering. Because when he remembers, he turns off all feeling.

Today is a bad day. 

Andrew was still in bed at noon. He was nothing but an Andrew sized lump and a tuft of blonde hair sticking out of a mound of blankets on the top bunk. Nicky tried feeding him. He tried bribing him with ice cream. He tried annoying him out of bed. No response. 

He left the dorm before Neil got back from a run. He couldn't stand feeling so helpless. His heart couldn't take it. He wanted to call Erik and tell him he was coming home to him now because it's not like he'll ever be able to help Andrew and Aaron come together. He'll never be able to help Andrew face his demons. He can't _fix this_ and it tears him apart inside. 

When he heads back to his dorm from taking over Matt's, it's almost a relief to see that both Neil and Andrew are gone. Neil managed to get him out side, at least. 

Cake, he thinks. This was supposed to be cake. 

After a few hours of waiting and pacing and ignored phone calls and text messages, he worries. Because his anxiety loves to torture him. 

He leaves to look for them. He checks the court and the library and the gym. The masarati is still in the parking lot so they didn't escape to Columbia. He finally tries the roof. 

He walks softly up the stairs, not wanting to startle them if they're there, and sure enough he finds the door to the roof cracked.

Nicky pushes it open as slowly as he can to avoid creaking, and peeks around to see if Neil and Andrew are there. 

They are. And what Nicky sees nearly makes his knees buckle. 

Neil and Andrew sitting on the ground facing each other, legs criss-cross-applesauce and knees touching. Neil has one of Andrew's hands and he's slowly massaging  his palm. Deep strokes with his thumb meant to soothe and relax. Andrews head is bowed, his eyes closed, breathing deeply. Neil is muttering too low for Nicky to hear clearly, but it sounds like menial conversation. About school and exy and a stupid movie Matt made him watch. Neil slowly places Andrew's hand in his lap, takes one of his own hands and places it on Andrew's jaw.

"Yes or no?" Neil asks. 

"Yes."

Andrew leans forward first, to Nicky's surprise. The kiss lasts only for a moment but it's hard enough to have something behind it. Gratitude, Nicky finally decides. 

Nicky turns around and heads back down the stairs before he's caught. His knees are weak and tears are rolling down his face before he even realizes he's crying. He tries to do a self-assessment and figure out _why_ he's so emotional about this.

If he's really, truly honest with himself, a very teeny tiny part of it is resentment. He wanted to be the one to reach Andrew. To be able to help him on his bad days. He wanted to take care of Andrew and see him graduated and see him hug his brother when they both leave to wherever they end up going after. Because he knows it won't be together. 

But shoving that tiny part aside, most of it is knee-wobbling relief. And a happiness so profound his chest is tight and it's hard to breathe. Aaron had Kaitlyn. Aaron was going to be a doctor. Aaron had the best grades of anyone on the Exy team.

And Andrew. Andrew had Neil. And Nicky was so relieved to finally be able to contend that, yes. This is enough for now. This is okay. This is actually a miracle.

This is cake.  


	6. Please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew and self-harm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO MANY trigger warning for this post, folks. I've been wanting to do a chapter on Andrew and his journey with self-harm for a long time, but honestly I was afraid of triggering myself. So. This post contains images of self harm and descriptions of physical/sexual abuse. The angst is off the charts and I cried the entire time I wrote it because lo and behold, I totally ended up triggering myself. I know that SH is not the same for everyone, but this is heavily influenced by my own experience and journey. Enjoy, I guess? :{

Andrew is 7 years old. He is the smallest kid in his 2nd grade class, but he's also the fastest. He can outrun Levi Miller and he's the _tallest_ kid in class. He won an award for reading one time, because he loves books about worlds that don't exist and brave boys and magic. He walked into the kitchen of his foster home to show his foster mother his award, and he got a wooden spoon to the face for interrupting her phone call. He knew better. He was so fast because he had to be at home. He wasn't fast enough that day. He wasn't fast enough to get away from his foster father either. _pleasepleaseplease._  

Andrew is 10 years old. He is still the smallest kid in class, but he thinks that's alright for going unnoticed. He sees a little girl being herded behind the school building by a group of older boys. He's torn between staying unnoticed and making sure nothing happens to her. He follows them slowly and peeks around the corner. The girl is on the ground crying, her dress rucked up to her waist and a boy pinning her down. _pleasepleaseplease_ she begs. Andrew snaps. Before he's even aware of moving he's bulled himself into the boy sitting on top of the girl. He's the one on top now and he keeps punching even when his knuckles split and there's blood on his shirt. But there are more of them than there are of him, and as they close in and push him down, all he knows is that the girl is gone and that this is nothing compared to what he's had to endure. He let's them do their worst. 

Andrew is 13 years old. His foster mother is kind and loving and made him a stocking for Christmas. She buys him books and packs his lunch and even tried to give him a hug one time, before Andrew made it known that he does not like to be touched. His foster brother did not get the memo. Drake is fine at first. He takes Andrew to a baseball game and buys him snacks. They talk about fast cars. He comes to Andrew's room under the pretense of sharing some new music. But when the music is playing maybe a little too loud and when Drake is sitting maybe a little too close, Andrew realizes too late what's happening. It's his fault, he thinks. He knows better. He let these people in and he let himself trust and he let himself hope. This suddenly all makes sense. He can't keep Cass without keeping Drake and maybe this is his punishment for wanting so much. For having it. 

The first time Andrew cuts himself, he laughs. It's such a relief. Sometimes he thinks too much and he can't shut his brain down. Sometimes a cruel voice that sounds like his foster father from when he was seven years old, the first one to lay hands on Andrew, whispers in his ear. It tells him this is what he deserves. No one will love him. Cass can't possibly care for him, if she let's this happen with Drake. She has to know. She knows. She knows and she ignores the bruises and the way Andrew doesn't sleep and the way he flinches if anyone gets too close. She _knows_ and she doesn't care because Andrew deserves this.

That first cut made the thoughts and whispers flee like a flock of pigeons startled in to flight. Andrew watched as beads of blood welled from the cut and dripped down his arm. He made another. Then another. Then he barricaded his door and slept for the first time in weeks. 

Andrew kept cutting. Sometimes it was slow and methodical. Sometimes it was deeper than he meant it to be. Sometimes it was in a blind fury and panic and he ends up with shallow cuts cross-hatching down his arms. The tops of his thighs. Sometimes his ankles. Those were easier to hide. 

The truth of the cutting was that it was an addiction. It called for blood whenever he was feeling stressed or anxious or angry. It was like a slimy, oily _other_ that lived in his brain. It slithered around like a snake and coiled tightly around his mind until he couldn't think of anything else except _cut, cut, cut_. He carried a razor blade with him everywhere he went and it felt like a friend. It was a comforting lightness in his hand, the bite of cold metal like a kiss. He almost got caught in the school bathroom one time, but managed to hide it and send a death glare at the kid looking at him funny. As if trying to reconcile what he saw with what he knew normal human behavior should look like. 

Somewhere deep down he knew he probably shouldn't. But somewhere deeper down he did not give a shit. Because in the place _deepest_ down, it was just one more hurt. The only one he could control. The blood was his truth. Tumbling out of him one swipe of the razor at a time. He found the faster he sliced the blade on his arm, the deeper the cut would be. He would watch the skin separate as if in slow motion, and bleed his truth in the warm bathwater. His razor blade never asked questions. It was the answer. 

Cass knew. She asked Andrew what happened to his arm and Andrew would make up excuses every time. They would get more and more ridiculous just so he could see how far she was willing to take the lie. _I fell in some bushes at school. I got in a fight with a cat. They're not real, it's for drama class. Pretty good right?_

She was willing to take it as far as he let her, apparently. 

Which was pretty far. Because he wanted to keep her. But keeping her meant keeping Drake. So he dealt with Drake by disappearing into his head when the weight of a body was on top of him, and cutting himself to shreds after it was gone. 

The cuts became deeper. They started to scar. The snake that had hold of his mind squeezed and squeezed and he gave in every time because this was all he had to hang on to. He held a razor blade to the thin skin of his wrist and closed his eyes. He had long since given up the word please, but he found himself begging. _pleasepleaseplease._ For the courage to press down. For the courage to go a little deeper. For the courage to just end this here and now. No one would even notice he was gone and he wouldn't notice either. 

But Cass had said. Cass had said she wanted to keep him, too. Drake was leaving for the Marines soon. Maybe he could stay. Maybe he was a coward. 

In the end the only brave thing he had ever done in his life ended up being getting himself sent to juvie. Drake knew about Aaron. Drake would do to Aaron what he did to Andrew. The thought made Andrew very much want to murder Drake. That was probably totally cool, right? But if he murdered Drake, Cass would never forgive him. It would hurt her too deeply to recover from. So he got himself sent away to spare Cass and to spare Aaron because another year in that house and someone would be dead. Himself or Drake, and he was the only one who could protect both Aaron and Cass. 

Andrew is 20 years old. He does not cut himself anymore. When Nicky took him and Aaron in, after he had been in Juvie and Tilda died in that terribly tragic _accident,_ Andrew made a concerted effort to stop. It wasn't the outlet he needed. He still needed to hit things and cigarettes definitely helped. But so did knowing that Nicky and Aaron were both okay and that he needed to be okay and functioning enough to make sure it stayed that way. So now he is in college and plays exy and there is absolutely nothing between him and Neil. Neil is a moron and a junkie and sometimes he _looks_ at Andrew. He looks at him with his stupid face and he goes soft around the edges and Andrew feels so _seen_ that he can't stand it. It makes his skin crawl. He hates Neil for looking. But he hates him more for _seeing_.

 _I am not your answer._  

But the problem now is that Andrew is having a hard time remembering the question. And although he stopped cutting a long time ago, the truth is the urge rears its ugly head sometimes. The snake starts hissing and Andrew has to mentally wrap his hands around it's neck and throttle it until it's quiet again. Sometimes he still hears whispers. Sometimes when he has to stop taking his medication so he can play or so he can sleep they creep in. This time they're Drake. Even when Drake is dead and buried and has an exy raquet shaped dent in his skull, Andrew still hears him sometimes. When he's off his medication and he turns off all feeling and emotion, he still has to push it down, down, down before it swallows him up. But he doesn't cut. Because that's not the outlet he needs anymore. Fighting with Renee is an outlet. Cigarettes on the edge of the roof is an outlet. 

But maybe the most disturbing part of it all is that Neil is an outlet. Because while he would never use Neil to chase the whispers away, the fact remains that when they're together he's not thinking about them. He's too busy being seen and seeing and trying to keep himself from wanting. Because he couldn't keep Cass, and there's no way he'll get to keep Neil. 

But when they kiss, those thoughts still flee like a flock of pigeons taking flight. And Andrew thinks maybe this is a different kind of truth. 


	7. Honey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly just needed a break and some fluff after that last one. :)

Neil has never done drugs. Unless you count that unfortunate encounter with being force fed cracker dust. Which he does not. 

But he imagines, as he's laid out beneath Andrew, that maybe this is what it's like. Heart racing and quick breaths and hot skin. Floating a bit above himself. He still has pants on and for fucks sake _WHY_ are they so hot and itchy against his skin and please god just let Andrew take them off. Let this be one of those yes days. 

Andrew's hips are in between Neil's legs and they're pressing down and they're chest to chest and Neil thinks he might die when Andrew bites his neck. He thinks his heart might literally beat out of his chest when Andrew grinds his hips into Neil's and Neil raises his own hips just a bit to meet Andrew, to gain more friction.

"So damn greedy." Andrew growls. 

"Yes." The only word Neil can force out at the moment. 

Andrew pulls back a bit and lays his broad hands on Neil's ribs. Squeezing just a little as he grinds harder in to Neil.

Neil sucks in a breath and arches his neck back into the pillow. Hands squeezing Andrew's forearms and legs wrapped around Andrew's hips trying to pull him in closer, harder. 

Andrew looks at him then, and Neil suddenly feels so damn warm and content and the fire takes on a new life and a new meaning. 

Honey eyes, Neil thinks through the haze. Honey eyes and honey skin and honey words whispered in to Neil's neck when they're alone in bed and they don't want to wake the others. Breath mingling and lips brushing. Hands rough and calloused from exy and knives, but so damn smooth over Neil's skin. Tracing scars and cupping the back of his neck and holding on to hips. Pouring over him, warm and sweet. 

"Yes." Neil gasps again. He's not even sure why. He's not even sure what he's saying yes to. All he knows is that Andrew's eyes are still locked on his and they widen just a bit from that heavy lidded stare as if he can read exactly what Neil is thinking. As if those hands on his ribs could sink right inside and see what makes Neil work.

Andrew tears his eyes away and takes a ragged breath. Disappointment sinks deep into Neil's stomach. He's shown too much and now Andrew will stop. Now Andrew will put distance in between. 

He does not. He looks at Neil one more time and leans forward to press a kiss in the middle of Neil's chest. He flicks his tongue over one nipple, then the other. He follows the trail down Neil's stomach, sucking bruises all the way before finally reaching the waistband of his pants. He reaches for them and looks up at Neil, raising a questioning brow.

_"Yes, you asshole."_

Neil swears he smirks. 

Andrew pulls Neil's pants and underwear off and Neil shudders at his burning skin suddenly being exposed to the cold air. But all he can think is _fucking finally_. 

Andrew places a kiss at the base of Neil's cock and strokes gently. Slowly. Teasing.

_fuckgoddampieceofshitmotherfuckerisweartogod_

Neil is going to implode.

Andrew suddenly licks up from base to head before swallowing Neil whole and Neil can't help but let out a strangled " _fuck"_ when he does. He plunges his hands into Andrew's hair and holds on for dear life. 

Andrew is taking him hard and deep, his hand following behind his mouth. When he uses his other hand to grab Neil's balls, Neil let's out a loud moan that takes him by surprise before he clamps his lips shut. 

Andrew stops to look up at Neil, rolling his eyes with Neil's cock still in his mouth and Neil almost comes right then. Until he hears a pound on the bedroom door. 

"LISTEN. I'M SO FUCKING HAPPY FOR YOU GUYS BUT. LIKE. COULD YOU PLEASE NOT WHILE THE REST OF US ARE RIGHT OUTSIDE THE DOOR." Nicky sounds like he's half laughing, half crying. Neil does not care. 

"NICKY GET THE FUCK OUT OR SO HELP ME GOD I WILL SEND YOUR BODY TO YOUR PARENTS IN PIECES." He was the butcher's son, after all. 

Neil and Andrew were still frozen with Neil's cock in Andrew's mouth and Neil felt a hysterical laugh bubbling it's way up before he hears Nicky shuffle off giggling the entire time. There was going to be a group text about this later, Neil just fucking knew it. 

They heard the dorm door slam shut and before Neil could even turn back to Andrew he had resumed taking Neil apart slowly and methodically. 

He ran a tongue over Neil's head, licking at the slit before taking Neil in his mouth again. He works faster and faster until Neil's toes are curling and his hand is yanking at Andrew's hair. Andrew slows his pace.

Not drugs Neil decides. Torture. He's been tortured before. More than once. He knows that feeling. The anticipation of the pain and the inability to do anything but endure it. To hope for the end but still waiting for the in between. That's what this was like. The most exquisite fucking torture Neil has ever had to endure. 

Neil's face is numb. He can't feel his lips. He has no idea what to do with his hands. Andrew starts to pick up the pace again and before he can even really get going, Neil loses it. He arches his back thrusting his hips up to meet Andrew's mouth and finally. Finally the torture ends and it's such a fucking wave of relief, Neil can't move his body. 

Andrew sits back on his heels and takes Neil in. Neil's sure he looks ridiculous. Flushed and sweaty and hair sticking up all over the place. But Andrew just looks. Honey eyes dark and heavy lidded before laying himself over Neil again and kissing him hard. Neil winces at the taste, but chases it out of Andrew's mouth. He can feel Andrew shifting and taking his cock out. Can feel the steady rhythm he sets for himself. Neil helps him along by moving his mouth to Andrew's neck. Kissing and sucking his way up to his ear and gently biting his ear lobe. Andrew buries his face in Neil's neck and his mouth on Neil's collar bone and let's out a broken huff of air as he comes all over Neil's stomach. 

He stays there for a minute. Breathing hard. Keeping space between their bodies because of the mess. Neil wraps his arms around Andrew's shoulders and rubs soothing circles into his spine. Honey skin, Neil thinks again. Smooth and warm. They've been doing this long enough now that there are safe places Neil knows he can touch without needing to ask first. This was one of them. Andrew lifts his head up to look at Neil, still heavy lidded and a furrow between his brow as if he's trying to solve a puzzle on Neil's face. 

Pressing one more kiss to Neil's lips he pulls back slowly, and looks Neil deep in his eyes. Neil waits. For the honey words and the honey touch. 

"You're too fucking loud."

The hysterical laugh finally breaks free.

 


	8. Cuffed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil works on the cuffs that Roland gives him and Andrew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is based on Nora's ask about Roland giving Andrew and Neil those padded cuffs as a joke and their reactions. Warning that this is mostly tame until the end and then it gets very super explicitly smutty. :)

The thing about Roland, Andrew thought, is that he had a severe lack of fear when it came to his own death.

Andrew and Neil were back at Fox Tower after a weekend in Columbia and Neil had finally opened the box that Roland had given him at Eden’s. They both forgot all about it as soon as they were alone together in the bedroom at the Columbia house.

“So…is this supposed to be a joke? Or is it genuine concern for our sex life?” Neil asked.

Andrew was suddenly so full of rage he had to turn his back on Neil. This wasn’t a fucking joke. Roland knew first hand that Andrew had boundary issues and more importantly, he knew WHY since the news about the trial was released. Andrew had been living a half-life before Neil. A life of _keep your hands to yourself_ and _I’ll kill you if you fucking touch me_ when he was just trying to get off and feel good. Neil was the first person he allowed himself to push that boundary with and why the _FUCK_ would he punish himself by taking that away? Why would he want Neil’s hands bound when he could have them touching him where he felt okay being touched?

Andrew snatched the cuffs from Neil’s hand and threw them at the window above the desk. The window didn’t break, much to Andrew’s disappointment. But it did crack, which seemed more fitting somehow. Andrew knew all his cracks were showing at the moment.

He turned back to Neil, breathing hard and clenching his fists. Neil sat there wide eyed with his hand still in the air.

“They’re not funny. I’m not fucking using those.”

Neil lowered his hand enough to hold it out to Andrew. Andrew stared at it for a moment, taking in the scars ringing Neil’s wrists where Riko and Lola cuffed him and trapped him. And then understood.

Neil would use those hands and touch Andrew however he wanted to be touched and however he didn’t want to be touched. Andrew took his hand.

“Then we won’t use them.”

****

The cuffs were thrown into a drawer and completely forgotten about. Neil didn’t want to toss them for some reason. The fact of the matter was that even though neither one of them had any desire to use them during sex, they both had issues that needed to be faced. Neil didn’t even know how they would help, but he kept them anyway.

Those cuffs stayed in that drawer until Kevin’s last year at PSU. They were shuffled around and hidden under papers and were generally only noticed if Neil needed to dig in that particular drawer for stray batteries. Until he found a use for them.

Andrew’s lot were at Eden’s Twilight, celebrating a win against the University of South Carolina. Kevin, Nicky and Aaron were already on the way to being completely smashed, tossing back shots like they were water. Nicky and Aaron quickly made their way to the dance floor, while Kevin chose to get as drunk as possible. Neil was sitting on a stool close enough to Andrew to be able to lean against him, just slightly. He sighed and laid his head on Andrew’s shoulder. Neither of them were drinking that night.

“It’s all going to be over soon, you know. The upperclassmen are gone and Kevin and Matt are leaving this year. Then you.” Neil’s chest hurt thinking about it.

“Have you been drinking behind my back?” Andrew asked.

“No, I’m serious. What are we going to do when you leave and I’m still stuck here with the infants?”

“Why are you even thinking about this shit right now? We have a whole year before we need to start worrying about that.”

“I know I just-“

Neil was interrupted when a group of large, thick necked men stopped in front of their table. Some of the University of South Carolina players they had stomped earlier in the night.

“Who knew PSU had so many fags on their team? Is that how you finally managed to get your shit together? Just started fucking each other before games?” One particular Neanderthal looking player said.

Before Neil could open his mouth, Kevin shot up off his stool, wobbling only a little.

“Is that what you have to tell yourself to sleep at night? To make yourselves feel better for being such inadequate players? Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but your team fucking sucks because you’re all too busy flexing your muscles to play the fucking game,” Kevin spat out, chin jutted out and a finger pointing in the Neanderthal’s face.

“The fuck did you just say to me?”

“He _SAID_ you’re a worthless piece of shit that can’t see past his own dick. Now get the fuck out before we have security throw you out,” Neil said.

“You little…” the guy started to lunge for Neil, but Kevin punched him in the face before he could get too far. It was immediately chaos. The USC players started swinging on anyone they were near, and Neil climbed over the table to jump on the closet guy he could find. He heard a noise of shock and anger come out of Andrew’s mouth, but didn’t look back to see his face.

Neil had managed to knock his guy to the ground and was punching a steady rhythm into his face (a definite improvement if you asked Neil) when he felt arms pulling him off. He struggled against them in an effort to jump back on the guy. Neil had been itching for this. This whole year had been so fucked with trying to captain the freshman and Jack’s terrible attitude and the realization that Andrew would be leaving him in the near future. It felt good to let his frustration bleed out of his knuckles.

The arms holding him finally managed to get him to the ground. Face pressed against the sticky floor and a knee in his back, Neil realized these were cops. Rage turned to panic as he felt himself being cuffed and hauled upwards. He looked around frantically and found Andrew and Kevin in a similar state, along with the USC players.

Neil wasn’t sorry.

****

The cops left them cuffed when they threw them in to the drunk tank. Nicky and Aaron were working on getting them released. But until then the three of them had to sit there with the USC players glaring at them and what looked to be the entire drunk population of Columbia. Well, Andrew and Neil did. Kevin was passed out in a corner.

Neil looked at Andrew and Kevin. They both had a few cuts and bruises but seemed alright for the most part. Neil was fine except for his torn and bloody knuckles. He took great satisfaction in the fact that the other guys looked much, much worse.

He cleared his throat. “So…how long do you think until we’re out of here?”

Andrew glared at him. “Gee, I don’t know Neil. How long did it take you to decide to climb over the fucking table and latch on to that guy like a fucking koala?”

Neil grinned. “No time at all actually.”

Andrew rolled his eyes and adjusted his arms. Wait. He wasn’t adjusting them.

“What are you doing?” Neil asked.

“Getting out of these fucking cuffs, that’s what I’m doing.”

Neil watched wide-eyed as he heard a click and Andrew’s hands came up from behind his back. He worked on the cuff still attached to the other wrist and rubbed them both after they were off.

“What the fuck?!” Neil said. “How did you do that?! Here do mine!” He started to turn his back to Andrew but Andrew stopped him.

“Absolutely not. You sit there and think about attacking people three times your size in length and width with your hands stuck behind your back.”

“Asshole.”

****

Neil pulled those cuffs out the next day. He attached one end to one wrist and set to picking it with the lock picks Andrew had apparently had stuffed up an arm band when they were arrested. He studied the cuffs and worked them and worked them and eventually got annoyed with the dangling end of the cuffs. He locked the other end to the headboard of the bunk he was sitting on.

Andrew came in sometime later and raised a brow and the sight before him.

“I always knew you were an idiot, but this is a whole new level for you, Neil.”

“Shut up. I’m trying to figure out how to unlock them.”

He continued working with Andrew offering unhelpful suggestions. ‘ _So you’re going to stick it in at that angle?’_

Neil finally got them undone with a cry of triumph.

“Hah! Who’s an idiot now?!” He said as he re-cuffed himself, locking up both wrists now.

“Still you, apparently.”

“Nah, I got this.” Neil said, and set to work.

They talked about boring things while Neil picked. He was pissed about today’s exy practice and told Andrew that Jack was still refusing the do the Raven’s drills Neil was teaching them.

“Just punch him in the face and get it over with.”

“I can’t do that. I’m the captain. Team solidarity and all that shit.”

“Even more of a reason.” Andrew said, brows drawing together while he watched Neil try to unlock the cuffs.

Neil suddenly realized he’s in trouble. Having both hands cuffed meant he had to turn them at an awkward angle to get the pick in right and it was damn near impossible. He had no idea how Andrew had done this with his hands behind his back. He glanced up at Andrew and saw him watching with a knowing look on his face. He felt his cheeks heat and stared down hard at what he was doing so his hair fell in his face.

_Fuck._

He kept babbling to hopefully keep Andrew distracted from noticing the fuckery Neil has gotten himself into, but of course Andrew knew.

Andrew sighed as he stood up.

“We’re going to get dinner. See you later.”

“Wait! You can’t just leave me here! Get me out of these!”

“Oh, no. This is another good lesson for you. Stay here and think about what an idiot you are for a while.”

He left Neil with Neil cursing him soundly as he walked out of the room.

The next time Neil tried, he cuffed himself to Andrew so he couldn't get away.

****

Neil did finally figure out the cuffs. But that wasn’t important until some time later.

Neil was in class when his phone rang with a blocked number. He knew who it was immediately. He grabbed his backpack and left class with his teacher calling after him.

He answered the phone. Before he could even say anything he heard, “Neil Josten. This is a curtesy call from Lord Moriyama. Stuart Hatford has been deemed obsolete and has been disposed of. Is this going to be a problem?”

Neil froze. His feet froze. His heart froze. His breath froze.

“Mr. Josten?”

“No. Tell Lord Moriyama it won’t be a problem.”

The call disconnected. Neil sat down where he was at and tried to breath normally again. Neil didn’t even really know Stuart well. Had never spent any real amount of time with him. But he was the last family Neil had in the world. The last connection he had to his mother. And now he was gone. _Obsolete._

Neil called Andrew.

“What?”

“Come get me. Now.”

Andrew didn’t hesitate. “On my way.”

****

Neil told Andrew what happened when they got back to the dorm. Everyone was in class and wouldn’t be back for a few hours, so he laid down on his bunk with his face buried in his pillow. He felt Andrew sit on the edge of his bed and put a hand on his back.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Neil said, turning over. He pulled Andrew down for a kiss.

He just wanted to lose himself in this. It was too much, all of a sudden. Being captain was still so frustrating and his grades were dropping as a result and Kevin had already signed to a pro team. Andrew was still leaving next year and Neil had absolutely no say in the fact that his uncle was murdered. Murdered because he wasn’t useful anymore and the fact was, Neil could be murdered if he was found to not be useful anymore.

So he lost himself in Andrew’s mouth.

The kiss deepend and became frantic. Hands in hair and hands on skin and hands suddenly pushing him away.

“We’re not going to do this if you’re not the right headspace.” Andrew panted. But Neil could see his blown pupils. Could hear his ragged breath. So he pulled off his shirt and started to pull off Andrew’s before Andrew caught his wrist.

“I said-“

“I know what you said. I need you. I just…I just need to not think. Just for a little while.”

Andrew stared down at him and Neil got up. He retrieved the cuffs from their place in the drawer and brought them over to Andrew.

“I want this. I _need_ this. But I don’t trust myself not to touch where I’m not supposed to right now. I can get myself out of them. I’ll tell you to stop if I need you to. Just do this for me.”

Andrew took the cuffs and studied them for a moment before looking back at Neil.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to fuck my face.”

Andrew’s eyes widened at that and he clutched the cuffs a little tighter.

“Get on your knees, in front of the ladder.”

Neil did as he was told and the feeling of relief made him dizzy. This is what he craved when his mind couldn’t shut down.

Andrew walked in front of Neil and brought his arms over his head. He cuffed both hands to the ladder and looked down at Neil.

“If you need to stop, show me the number 4, okay?” Andrew asked quietly.

“Okay.”

“Show me.”

Neil made the number four with both hands. Andrew nodded and went to stand in front of Neil again. He took his shirt off and unbuttoned his pants. Neil’s breath caught as he pulled them down and he went to lean forward before he remembered he couldn’t.

“Okay?” Asked Andrew.

“Yes.” Neil replied.

Andrew stepped forward, giving his already mostly hard cock a few strokes to bring it to it’s full thickness. Neil groaned at the sight and swallowed Andrews dick when he brought it towards Neil’s mouth.

Andrew put a hand in Neil’s hair and slowly started guiding his head back and forth around his cock. He moaned and tightened his grip in Neil’s hair before taking the sides of Neil’s face in both his hands. He pulled his cock out of Neil’s mouth.

“Still okay?”

“Yes.”

Andrew let Neil take his cock again. This time he held on to Neil’s face while he fucked into Neil’s mouth. He gave shallow thrusts at first but started to go deeper and deeper. Neil loved every inch of him.

When his dick was all the way in Neil’s throat so that Neil’s nose was flush with Andrew’s stomach, Andrew grunted and pulled out just a bit. He fucked in earnest now. Still holding Neil’s head and setting a quick pace.

Neil was drooling and his eyes were half closed and the only thing he was thinking right at that moment was how Andrew’s cum would taste on his tongue.

“Going to cum,” Andrew grunted.

Neil braced himself and felt the hot spurts of Andrew in his mouth. He sucked greedily and swallowed it down until Andrew was twitching from the feeling of Neil’s tongue on his sensitive cock.

He pulled out of Neil’s mouth panting and red faced. He immediately moved to unlock Neil’s hands. Neil brought his sore arms down and rolled his shoulders and rubbed at his wrists.

“Thank you,” He told Andrew. He knew Andrew did it just for him. He was grateful.

Andrew bent down and kissed Neil hard. “Let’s not make this a habit, yeah? I like your hands on me.”

Neil smiled. “Yeah. Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos always appreciated!


End file.
